


It's in the leaves

by m_findlow



Category: Torchwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 04:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_findlow/pseuds/m_findlow
Summary: Gwen's horoscope is becoming eerily accurate





	It's in the leaves

'Do you believe in horoscopes, Ianto?' Gwen asked.

'Odd question,' he observed.

'Well, we have some time to kill, and it's been playing on my mind lately.'

'What makes you say that?'

She hesitated for a moment. 'Well it's just that lately, well, it's kind of been a little bit accurate,' she confessed.

He frowned in puzzlement, but she couldn't see his facial expression from where she was. 'How do you mean?'

'Well, on Monday it said "someone close to you won't appear to be what they seem, and that I'd have to look beyond the facade to discover the truth".'

He had to stop and think about it. He couldn't recall her mentioning anything about one of them lying about anything or keeping something secret. They were past all that sort of business. Well, he was. Jack was a mystery at the best of times. Then, as his thoughts were drawn to Jack, it dawned on him what she meant.

'Are you referring to Jack being turned into a washing machine and left in his office churning out clean socks?' He had to admit, that was a little bizarre. The washing machine part, that is. Clean socks were just a bonus.

'Yes. Then on Tuesday,' she continued, 'it said, "you'll be forced to make a choice between two distinct courses of action, one of which will have dire consequences".'

'Well, that could mean anything,' he offered. 'It might mean choosing cornflakes over weetabix for breakfast. It's a pretty vague concept, and isn't that the whole point of horoscopes, that you could apply whatever meaning you liked to them? It seems pretty unlikely that every twelfth person can have exactly the same horoscope every day, don't you think?'

'Yeah, but remember how there was that bomb threat and you and Jack were stuck in traffic and you had to help me diffuse it over the phone?'

'Was it the red wire or the blue wire in the end? I'm pretty sure Jack didn't have a clue which one to cut.'

'Exactly my point. Leaving me to make the final decision.'

'Good choice, by the way,' he said, congratulating her on not blowing up half of city hall. That would take some explaining, and put a severe dent in their annual budget.

'Thank you. Now, Wednesday is when it really starts to get weird.'

He strained to remember the day. Things were so crazy with just the three of them, that days had a habit of blending into one another. And without the delineation for weekends that didn't exist when you worked for Torchwood, that only make it even harder to keep track. 'What was Wednesday, again?'

'It said, "a picture frame will feature highly in your day and will probably make you feel like you'd never gotten out of bed, and you'll probably end up going back to bed as soon as today's mishaps have happened".'

'Oh.'

Ianto recalled all too well the mysterious artwork that had sent an entire gallery full of people to sleep as soon as they looked upon it. Gwen had been unfortunate enough to spy it before they'd figured out to what had happened, adding her own limp body to the dozens already lining the floor. They'd managed to shut down the lights in the gallery and cover the picture in a dark cloth, removing it without seeing the painting, but just enough light that they could still see what they were doing Luckily the sedative effects seemed to be temporary, but all of the victims claimed to be exhausted after they woke up again. And they still hadn't figured out what its purpose was. A painting that sends people to sleep? Half the gallery might have that effect on your average Joe, and those ones weren't even alien.

'And so dare I ask what today's horoscope was? "You'll find yourself in a sticky situation and your hands are tied?",' he asked, struggling against the very real ropes that were binding them both to the underside of the pier. The old wooden support beam was thick enough that they were both comfortably tied to either side of its wide girth. Their alien quarry was long gone, leaving them there whilst it made a clean getaway. Not every day was a good day, and this didn't qualify as some of their finest work. Nobody is perfect.

'No, the part I'm worried about is the bit where it said I might find myself in over my head and battling against a raging tide.'

'I'm guessing that would be the tide rolling in now,' Ianto noted, feeling the cold water sloshing around their lower legs. 'Excellent. Where's Friday's horoscope where it says you'll meet a tall, dark, handsome man? Preferably one who's immortal and is going to get us out of this bloody mess before we drown?'

'I was hoping that was your horoscope for today,' she admitted. 'Tomorrow might be a bit too late.'


End file.
